Jabberjay Book One: Battle
by Slytherin Sadist Angel
Summary: What if Clove and Cato won the Games? How would that affect the history of Panem? This covers their experience in the Games.
1. Prologue

**Hey… How's life? *coughawkwardmuchcough***

The first time they noticed each other was in the training center in District Two.

He hurled a spear too high, missed the target, and nearly hit her.

She threw a knife that lodged in the wall a few centimeters away from his ear.

Even then, she never missed.

She was 11 and he was 12.

* * *

The next time they acknowledged each other was five months later.

She was arguing with another girl about who would volunteer. She pinned the other girl to a wall and held a knife to her throat.

He pulled her off and told both of them to watch themselves.

She responded by telling him to fuck off.

* * *

The third time was when she was walking home from training.

They both lived in the same area of the district.

A mugger was hiding in the bushes, and she was attacked. She stuck a knife in the mugger's throat. He had been about to help her, but had flinched back at her viciousness.

She offered him a smug smirk.

They were different in many ways.

She killed because it amused her.

He killed put of anger.

She was cold and sadistic.

He was too affected by his emotions.

She was Clove.

He was Cato.

* * *

Clove squirmed in the uncomfortably tight dress, standing with the other 15 year olds. She knew she had to look nice. This year, she would volunteer. And the entire district knew it. But still… why had her mother thought it would be a good idea to make her wear a something lacy?

"And our female tribute this year is…"

"I volunteer!" Clove yelled, striding forward as the crowd parted for her.

The District Two escort shakes her hand as she steps onto the stage. "And your name is…?

"Clove Taylor." The crowd cheers and Clove flashes them a smirk.

"And now for our male tribute!"

"No need, I volunteer," a cocky voice piped up from the back of the crowd. It was all Clove could do not to grit her teeth. _Cato Koren…_ His arrogant attitude infuriated her so much.

"Cato Koren." His voice echoed around the square as he strode onto the stage.

"Amazing!" the escort squeaked. Cato flashed the crowd a winning smile as he shook hands with Clove.

"Watch yourself, little girl. You'll want to be careful in these Games." The crowd laughed appreciatively.

Oh, how Clove hated him. She swore to herself that she would kill him as painfully as possible. And when she did, she would _hurt _him.

**Not very long, but it's a prologue. R&R!**


	2. Beginnings

**An update! How amazing! (No, really. It is. I'm one of those irresponsible people who never update. Sorry.)**

_**Italics= flashback. **_**Unless it's for half a sentence. Those are thoughts.**

**I think you know that.**

_"We need to form an alliance," Cato said to Clove the moment they saw each other. "One and Four are probably joining too."_

_"Let's watch the reaping recaps, find out about our fellow Careers," Clove agreed._

_Cato _

As her plate rose, Clove tugged on her jacket. It was made of some heat reflecting material, and he boots were made of nice, supple leather. Looking up, she saw the blue sky of the arena.

Her plate locked into place, and the glass around her retracted.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 74th Hunger Games begin!"

Clove straightened and surveyed the arena. Cornucopia, woods, lake, jagged area of plain that fell steeply. Scanning the tributes, she saw Cato a few plates to the right, Marvel a bit further. Glimmer was obscured, and Leanna- District Four- was to her left. District Twelve was right next to Leanna. Clove would make sure that she got a painful, drawn out death. She would be the most fun to kill. Apart from Cato, of course.

_The train skidded to a halt as it reached District One. Glancing out the window, Clove saw the tributes- both tall and blond. The girl flashed the crowd a flirty wave, swaying her his as she walked, and Clove bit her lip in disgust._

_"Glimmer and Marvel," Cato murmured. Clove almost snickered. _

_"Glimmer?"_

_"Yeah. She seems like an airhead- probably easy to manipulate. You can try to play Marvel too."_

_Clove shook her head. "I don't go for the slutty airhead angle. The sweet sarcastic one, sure, but not that."_

_"Just make sure they like you," Cato replied._

_"They will. Oh, they will."_

Clove caught Cato's eye, and he flashed her a predatory smile. _Are you ready? _She arched an eyebrow in response, before turning back to survey the tributes. _Why wouldn't I be?_

Clove had never been good at making friends, but her relationship with Cato hadn't been as strained as she thought it would be.

During the course of their stay in the Capitol, they had almost developed and easy relationship, with little smirks and grins placed here and there, and they were now able to read each other perfectly.

_Cato stepped in front of her. "May I escort you to your room, my lady?"_

_"Go away, Cato."_

_"What did I do, Clove dearest? Offend you?"_

_Clove flashed Cato a brief smile, crossing her arms slowly and deliberately, making sure Cato saw a glint from the knife in her sleeve._

_"Of course not, sweet Cato. I just think it would be a shame to see the blood gushing from your throat without seeing you kill a few tributes first," she replied in a honeyed voice._

_"Playing rough, aren't we, Clove?"_

Maybe, Clove reflected, before the kill, she'd even give Cato a real smile. Maybe even a sincere one. One that read _sorry about this, but I have to win, which means you have to die. _

She had about twenty seconds left. Her eyes searched the weapons, looking, looking... There! Several sheaths of knives were stashed in the mouth of the Cornucopia, along with jackets to hold them. Oh, the knives! Even from here she could see them, cocooned in dark leather, sharp, lethal, swift, and small. Like her.

The gong sounded. Clove sprinted right towards the knives without hesitating. She eyed the other tributes, seeking out her fellow Careers, and weaker tributes.

When she reached them, her foot kicked a knife into the air, and she caught it, sending it spinning towards a tribute with a deft flick of her wrist. She smiled. She hadn't gotten to do that for a long time.

Sliding one of the jackets on, she looked around. To her left was a measly boy, who she thought was District Five. A twist, and a blade is buried inches in his skull.

Clove could feel it now, the exhilarating feeling of taking life, ending it, with just a turn of her wrist, letting go of her knife. Blood sprayed across her jacket. A scream of pain. The light fading from someone's eyes. It didn't make her happy- nothing made her happy- but it made her feel relaxed, at peace.

Just like Cato did sometimes, when he'd ended up on her bed, in the Capitol. She'd thrown a knife, nicking his ear, and he'd smiled and wrestled her down. It had nearly made her laugh. And she'd thought the only person who could do that was her brother.

She shook her mind free of thoughts of Cato. _Not a good time, Clove. _

She glances at Cato, who was standing on the other side of the Cornucopia, tugging a sword free from a tribute's chest.

_"And now for District Two!"_

_Clove saw her name spin across the screen, to be replaced by a ten. She leaned back on the couch, smirking a little. The smirk disappeared as "Cato- 10" flashed across the screen._

_"Good job. I'd expect no less from a career tribute," their mentor had said, not noticing the silent challenge Cato and Clove were proposing to each other._

Sweet Clove, are you sure you can beat me? _Cato's raised eyebrows asked._

_Clove cocked her head sideways. _Why Cato, shouldn't _I _be asking that?"

_Cato ran a hand through his hair. _Bring it on.

_Clove swore she would._

A flick, and a boy tugging on a backpack goes down, a thrust and a knife is stuck through the hand of a girl, pinning her to the ground. Clove put a foot on her chest, saving her for later.

Looking around, she saw District Twelve was running towards the woods, the backpack having been tugged into her grasp. Clove threw her knife, watching as it cut through the air, sailing towards the stupid girl who outscored her- and lodged into her backpack.

Clove cursed angrily, but she didn't go after Twelve, there were too many tributes to kill, too many weapons that she wanted.

She looked down at the writhing girl under her feet- District Six, an eight in training. Clove slid down, her face inches away from Six, who whimpered pitifully.

"I bet you thought you stood a chance, didn't you? With your precious eight in training? You thought you could just waltz in, take the weapons, and run? The Games don't work that way. Only the best win."

Clove tugged a knife loose from her jacket, before deciding on the girl's death. The bloodlust high fueling her, she let herself go. Shoulder tendons were sliced, eliciting a cry of pain. Two long cuts marred the eyes, blood spraying the grass. Finally, a long, wicked blade was plunged into the girl's throat.

_"What a perfect start we have here," Cato whispered into Clove's ear. "A ten for both of us, and a grand opening. Are you sure you want to continue playing this?"_

_"I'm positive. After all, I'll win these, and I'll kill you."_

_"Good luck, little girl, good luck."_

What a perfect start to the Games.

**I post the stupidest, shortest, chapters, don't I? **

**I'm sorry for those of you who thought this would be quality...**


End file.
